


Grape Jelly

by sugarypiment



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Animal Death, Biting, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Character Turned Into Vampire, Gore, Insomnia, Mutilation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Harm, Vampires, Vomiting, charlie is Really Sick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-04 19:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarypiment/pseuds/sugarypiment
Summary: On the first day, it began to ache.Then, quickly, followed the Hunger.There was this horrid emptiness that would take over his stomach, more and more each day.God, he was so fucking hungry.





	1. Cat Food

**Author's Note:**

> It's Spooky Time, and we all know what it means.... Vampire AU!  
Since I'm not a native english speaker I apologize for the (potential) grammar mistakes.  
Enjoy!

On the first day, it began to ache.

Well, not really ache as we could say. It was more like a sunbruise, burning the inside of his throat. From the bottom of his tongue, to the entrence of his stomach. A glowing sensation taking him from the inside.   
Just like that time he had_ accidently_ swallowed an entire bottle of detergent he had discovered in the women's bathroom. That day, Dee had found him lying on the ground, eyes rolling on the back of his head, a unknown mucous coming out of his mouth.   
Pretty pathetic, uh.   
She had to take him to the hospital, and kept yelling at him all the way there words Charlie couldn't catch by the cloudiness of his mind.   
Stupid screaming bird.  
The doctors told him it was a miracle he got through it alive.  
The two coworkers never talked about it again.

But today was different.   
Because Charlie hadn't swallowed anything weirdly looking.   
He didn't inhale any harmful powder. Didn't absorb any strange drink, or cleaning product.  
This irritating, ravaging feeling that was making his pulse beats against his temples had nothing to do with toxic substances.   
It just sort of... happened. Like a cold can happen. Like a headache can happen.   
And it was taking all over his head, body and mind.   
Like a dangerous poison spreading through his veins, taking control. Preventing him to think proprely.

Then, quickly, followed the Hunger.

That's when Charlie decided to stop coming to work.   
  
Most people would say, when you're having health troubles, the first thing to do is to talk to someone about it. Never keep it to yourself, or, if you're really worried, try to call a doctor.  
But Charlie chose to stay confined in his appartment, door locked, curtains shut down to preclude any particle of light to penetrate his den he had created for himself.  
The lights were just too much for him. Perforing his mind every time Charlie had tried to just glance through the curtains. Not that he wasn't used to live in the darkness anyway.

The Hunger was probably the worst part of what Charlie would have called his "sickness". He didn't bothered to look through the internet to find out what it was, thinking it wouldn't last more than a few days.  
But it did.   
And oh _God_.   
It was fucking horrible.

There was this horrid emptiness that would take over his stomach, more and more each day.   
Like that time him and Dee catched a tape worm after eating that sweet, sweet racoon meat Frank gave them. But way much worse.  
The feeling he hadn't eat in weeks, even though he kept draining the stock of groceries Frank hid behind the drawers, jumping on every part of food he could find.   
It started with the cheese, like it always did when Charlie was hungry or anxious. But this time, nothing seemed to satisfied his hunger.   
Followed the cat food.   
The biscuits.   
The chips.   
The fruits. The toothpastes. The detargents.   
It all tasted the same. It all tasted like sand.   
A disgusting, drained taste. Crunching under his teeth.

Charlie threw up many, many times.   
The first time was when he started to try eating something convenent.   
After that, his stomach decided to spit out everything Charlie tried to put inside his mouth. Solid, or liquid. Even water tasted like sewers.

The nauseeas and the constent feeling of disgust were also a huge part of _the sickness_. A dreadful disgust of everything. From the tastes, to the smells.   
The smells.   
Oh god.   
The were inviding the apartment like rotten flesh.   
Exactly like that day Frank found a dead rat stucked into the sink's plumberie, covered with moss and worms.  
A wet, sticky, rotten smell.  
Probably was it also the cause of the cloud of flies and bugs that immediately followed, swarming from the walls to the ground, eating every part of food left out in the apartment Charlie couldn't eat.

The place was a mess. But Charlie wasn't able to note the damages he was causing to the apartment the last few days, the room being entirely plunged in obscurity.

Charlie also fainted many times.   
Probably was it because of the lack of food. Or the lack of sleep.  
At this point, Charlie started to think he might as well rot in here like a fucking rat until Frank came back from his buisness trip to find him like that. That would have been miserable.

_Fuck, he was so fucking hungry._

His hands were shaking constantly. And the weakness taking over his legs was providing him to stand up proprely without immediately falling back to his knees, covering his pale skin with multiples echymoses.  
The only moments Charlie felt somehow awake was when he was falling.   
When he was scratching.   
When he was cutting.   
Biting.   
Nibbling his own skin.  
And it felt fucking good.

At his first taste of his own skin, Charlie ended up violently thorwing up on the bathroom floor, acid tearing apart his mouth and stomach. At this point, there wasn't anything left to let out anymore, and his body was just kinda improvising.

But the taste.   
Jesus Christ.   
The taste never left his mouth, from this exact moment.  
The taste of the blood slightly dripping from his own bite marks, the ones he couldn't control himself from sinking his teeth into again, and again.   
It was.  
It was so fucking good.   
So fucking good.   
So fucking good.

Just like the first time in your life you'd let your tongue touch sugar. Or ectasy.

And it wasn't enough.   
It wasn't enough.

So Charlie started biting deeper. Just enough for his wounds to start bleeding.   
He started scratching harder. Cutting harder. Digging in the flesh. Eating.  
And it was good. So, so good.  
And everytime Charlie's tongue would bursh the purple substance, his mind was slightly approching a state of trance he sometimes tought he would never be able to leave.  
More. More.   
_Always more._

Then, after the exctasy, followed the decline.   
And it hurted.   
It hurted everywhere. And Charlie started wondering how his body was able to provide him so much blood without drying up like an empty plastic bag.  
If he was drinking his own blood, it would directly come back into his veins, right ?  
Right.

But it was never enough. Charlie needed something bigger.   
Bigger.   
Because his own body and flesh wouldn't give him the satisfaction of eating without feeling dried out and exhausted from his multiples wounds.  
He needed something more.

That's when he started to hear the late night meowings outside his window, as he was laying eyes wide open in the filth of his own nightmare.   
The horrifying revelation hit him in the face like a cold bucket of ice.  
He was drooling all over his dirty shirt when he opened his window, and a fresh can of catfood.

It didn't took long for one of the felines to finally climb by the open window to enjoy its midnight snack, sneaking out in the night.  
It didn't took long neither for Charlie to jump on the animal with a blanket, twisting it as the cat was making the most heartbreaking noises.  
The whimpers immediately ceased when Charlie cracked the neck of the poor thing.

That's when he finally started to eat.   
And holy shit, it was so delicious. Not as good as his own skin, but at least it didn't tasted like dirt.   
It was so savory, so scuculempt, the sweet new taste invading his mouth like a delicate dish.   
He ate it right where it was ; on the living room's floor. Biting directly into the flesh, not caring about the fur.   
Making a horrible mess. Not leaving anything behind.   
Licking his blood covered fingers to cleaned them up as a loud moan rose from his throat, groaning with pleasure. Finally feeling alive for the first time in days.

The thrill didn't last more than an hour.   
After that, Charlie came back to himself. Covered with cat hair, blood, guts. Tears coming out of his eyes as he was trying to hide himself from the bloody spectacle that was shown in front of him. 

He tried to make himself throw up a couple of times, but never succeded. Stupid body.

So he just submerged his head into the cold running water of the bathroom sink. Until the red liquid parseming his beard was all gone. Until his trembling, quitely ceased.   
  
Until the Hunger came back.

Stronger than before.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo, another chapter is here!  
Once again, I apologize for the potential grammar mistakes.

Charlie never knew how many time had passed before someone finally showed up at his place. Maybe was it weeks. Months.  
Or just a few hours.

A knock on his door brought him back to reality, as his eyes opened abruptely when a familiar voice followed the loud noise.

« Hey, yo Charlie, it's Mac ! »

Silence.   
Another knocking, this time louder. Charlie's heartbeat felt like a broken drum inside his temples, making his head boil as the voice started once again.

« You okay bud' ? We haven't seen you at the bar for days ! Everyone got a little bit worried... Also Dee may have clogged one of the bathroom sinks, so you probably should come take a look at that. Trust me, it's a mess. That stupid bitch. Cricket have even started to wash his old clothes in the flood ! Oh, and I've brougth you some beers. To cheer you up, or something. »

Beers.   
Charlie almost didn't notice the abundant quantity of saliva his mouth was making by the tought of the sweet, delicious, refreshing drink he almost forgot the taste of.  
Or maybe it wasn't the thought of the beer that made him drool all over his shirt.  
Maybe was it the smell that was coming from the corridor. A scuculent, amazing smell that could almost drive him insane.  
He hadn't smell anything like that in weeks. Months. Even years! It was surrealist. Invading the place like a delectable fumet.  
Charlie took a deep breath, his pupils eating his eyes from excitment.  
_What the fuck was it ?_

« C'mon dude, I know you're in there ! Don't ignore me ! »

Charlie almost forgot about his friend who was waiting outside, his mind flying from a thought to another as quickly as a thrunderstorm.

« I... don't feel so good, man. I just... I think I need to be alone. For a while. »

Those were the first words that had came out of his mouth in days. And it didn't sounded like him. At all.   
His voice was weak, rough, dry. And he was suprised Mac had been able to hear him from the other side of the door.

« Wow, geez dude. You sure don't sound good at all ! What happened to you? »

Charlie's teeth creaked against each other, blindly sinking his fingernail into his forearms. The smell was becoming more tempting every second passing. Stronger. Almost obscene.  
__  
What the fuck was it ? What the fuck was it ?  
  
He cleared out his throat before speaking again, his guts hurting him violently.

« Nothing. Just a cold I guess, or some shit like that. »

His voice was shaking, his mouth watering. God he was so fucking hungry.

« Oh, okay. But are you gonna let me in ? I mean, I came all the way down here from Paddy's, so I just wanna come inside and have a beer, at this point. I don't care if you have a cold. I have a super strong immune system so that's okay ! »

Charlie brought his fist to his mouth, nibbing it as the words coming from the door seemed more distorted with each sentence, giving him aweful nauseas.

Charlie seeked his teeth into his own flesh, opening an old wound. The blood flowed in his forearm like the foutain of Youth.  
He needed it. He needed to calm that fucking hunger that was tearing him appart.  
He needed more.

« Bro, you're still here ? »

Mac knocked six more times on the door, the silence following interpallating him.  
Mac slightly bited the inside of his cheeks before finally deciding to turn the door knob, hoping it wouldn't be locked.

Unfortunatly, it wasn't.

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to feed me with some sweet, sweet reviews.   
See you next time!


End file.
